


Unexpected

by Shadowed_Aura



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Canon, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom John, Enthusiastic Consent, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Gratuitous Smut, Johnlock - Freeform, Light Bondage, M/M, Mary is no longer in the picture, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Porn with Feelings, Post-Season/Series 03, Shameless Smut, Sherlock marvels at the man that is John Watson, Smut, Some Fluff, Top Sherlock, canon AU, somewhere after series 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-16
Updated: 2016-03-16
Packaged: 2018-05-27 01:16:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6263794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowed_Aura/pseuds/Shadowed_Aura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He knew, and accepted, that John was the only person that could keep his undivided attention for relatively long periods of time, but this . . . Oh, this was unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own BBC Sherlock or any affiliates of the show. Any recognized characters or locations are not mine. I just have a bit of fun.
> 
> Hey, lovelies!! If you follow my writings, you might be going, "Whoa! She jumped from 0 to 100 with the smut here!!!" If you're thinking that, you're perfectly correct. I have a tendency to stick my toe in the water and then just jump in headfirst. To be honest, I'm kind of proud of this. I'm American, and this hasn't been Brit-picked, but it's smut; there shouldn't be much to be picky about. Anyway, I'll quit jabbering! Have a smutty time!

Sherlock watched intently as John shifted on the bed, groaning softly as Sherlock grazed his knuckles across John’s stomach. He knew, and accepted, that John was the only person that could keep his undivided attention for relatively long periods of time, but this . . . Oh, _this_ was unexpected. This was _new_.

  
How could he have prepared himself for the way John’s fingers grasped uselessly for a firm hold on the headboard of their bed, the scarf Sherlock had used to bind John gathering as his hands continuously slipped from the slick wood? How could he have known John would let out a noise close to a whimper, eyes squeezed shut, any time Sherlock brushed his lips and teeth hotly over the starburst scar on John’s left shoulder? How could he have predicted that John’s mouth would open and close breathlessly on Sherlock’s name as his hips strained upward seeking friction? How could he have foretold that John’s quiet gasps of air would cause his own lungs to burn in sympathy? How could he have equipped himself with the knowledge that, when he managed to keep them open, John’s eyes would plead for Sherlock to _do something_ , and that this unspoken appeal would set his blood on _fire_?

  
No, nothing he has ever done or said could have prepared Sherlock for John Watson. His brave, loyal, stubborn, kind, _perfect_ John Watson. The man who, despite everything, believed in him and stood by his side. How could this man still want to stay with him? After everything . . .

  
A forceful whisper of his name brought Sherlock out of his thoughts. John was looking at him curiously, but he smiled, blue eyes bright, when Sherlock focused his razor sharp gaze on him.

  
“Don’t wander too far off, yeah? We’re a bit busy.” He raised his hips in emphasis, his hard cock brushing against Sherlock’s forearm where he’d frozen above John.

  
Sherlock frowned, pushing away any thoughts not related to John’s pleasure. John, in Sherlock’s silence, had gotten his breath back. That wouldn’t do.

  
Without a word, Sherlock set about making John absolutely breathless again, intent on shutting down all higher brain functions. He crawled back up John’s body until their lips connected with a clack of teeth, Sherlock pushing his tongue into John’s yielding mouth to taste him, to devour all of John Watson that he could. When he felt John’s arms straining against the scarf again, Sherlock moved to attach his lips to John’s neck, sucking harshly at his pulse point. He could feel John’s blood rushing underneath his skin, his heart beating erratically once more as he moaned Sherlock’s name on an exhale.

  
Sherlock continued moving downward, lips and tongue and hands cataloguing every twitch of muscle beneath John’s skin, every shuddering breath that escaped his lungs, and every sound he made in reaction to Sherlock’s ministrations. He bit at John’s hipbones lightly when he got to them, causing them to stutter upward. John let out a choked cry, his entire body trembling in anticipation when Sherlock moved his hands lower and grasped John’s aching cock in his palm.

  
Sherlock leaned back to observe John beneath him, stroking languidly. He knew it was nowhere near enough friction to make John come, but he was content with this pace for now.

  
John’s head was pressed tightly against the side of his arm. His eyes were closed. His mouth was held slightly open, his chest rising and falling as he panted.

  
Sherlock ran his thumb over the head of John’s cock, making John writhe, his eyes flying open as he bit his lip to stifle his shout. Sherlock smirked and did it again, quickening his pace, watching as John’s hands held firmly to the scarf above his head as he grated out Sherlock’s name from between his teeth.

  
“Sherlock. Sherlock, please, I’m-”

  
Sherlock immediately let go of John’s cock, making the man beneath him grunt in frustration and pitch his head back into the pillow.

  
“Sherlock, I need . . . I . . . You . . . Now would be good,” he finally managed to get out.

  
Placing a hand to John’s hip and rubbing soothingly, Sherlock moved his other hand, searching for the bottle of lube he’d thrown onto the bed earlier. Finding it underneath the sheet, he popped the cap, squirting a liberal amount onto his fingers and swirling it around to warm it. A huff from John told him he was taking too long. Grabbing a pillow and shoving it underneath the man’s hips as John dropped his legs open, he swiftly found John’s hole and rubbed a lubed finger over it, watching in fascination as the muscle twitched at the foreign touch. John bit his lip, quivering as Sherlock’s index finger sunk into him, and Sherlock slowly pulled the digit out before pushing back in. It was mere minutes before John was begging for another, twisting on the sheets and bearing down on Sherlock’s hand.

  
Sherlock obliged, adding a second finger and pushing deeper, using the hand that had been on John’s hip to stroke his flagging cock back to hardness as he explored inside John for his prostate. His entire body jerked forward when Sherlock found it, John crying out in pleasure before dropping back to the mattress and squirming in time to Sherlock’s searching fingers as he added yet another to the two. Sherlock watched, riveted, as his fingers were rhythmically swallowed by John’s enticing body. The welcoming warmth tight and slick, causing his cock to jerk against his thigh.

  
John’s cock glistened dark red and rigid in Sherlock’s palm. Sherlock chewed his lip, shoved off any uncertainty, and leaned down to take it in his mouth. John thrashed, practically shouting in wanton ecstasy as the all-consuming wet heat of Sherlock’s mouth engulfed him. The headboard creaked in protest as John pulled harder on the scarf attached to it. Sherlock ran his tongue along the underside of John’s cock, sucking softly on his way up, before diving back down as far as he could go, sucking harder with each pass. John’s breathy whines got steadily louder, and Sherlock felt him swell on his tongue.

  
A firm nudge against his side by John’s knee made him look up, questioning.

  
John had his bottom lip tucked between his teeth, brows furrowed and hair dripping beads of sweat onto his forehead, mouth turned down in a grimace as he watched Sherlock. If Sherlock hadn’t known the difference, he’d think John was in pain. But he knew better, now.

  
John’s eyes darkened considerably as Sherlock let his cock slide from his mouth with a sinful pop. He wiped away the saliva gathered on his chin. “John? You’re ready?”

  
John swallowed hard and took in a deep breath, laying his head back on the pillow, lifting his hips higher and planting his feet on the mattress, before responding. “Yeah. Yes. Go ahead.”

  
Sherlock wasted no time removing his fingers from John’s body, arousal rocketing upward at the squelch of lube and John’s lewd noise in response. He grabbed up the bottle of lubricant again, squirting more than necessary in his rush, and took his own cock in hand, spreading the lube up its length before guiding it toward John’s stretched hole.

  
“Wait!”

  
Sherlock’s head jerked up, and he pulled back quickly, eyes wide in concern. He began checking John over for any visible injury. “What did I do? What hurts? Why did you not say something sooner?” Perhaps John had been in pain, after all.

  
Before he could continue, John spoke, eyes gentle and understanding. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just . . . Untie me first? I want to hold you.” He pulled on the scarf again, eyebrows raised imploringly.

  
Sherlock pretended the sigh he let out wasn’t of relief. “Is that all? Yes, of course.” He reached up to the headboard, pulling on the meticulously tied knots of the scarf until they came loose enough for John to slip his hands from the loops. Sherlock grimaced at his pink wrists for a moment, but John immediately brought his hands up to Sherlock’s face, drawing him down to meet his mouth in an impassioned kiss, which Sherlock melted in to without protest.

  
Moments later, John pulled back and ran his hands through Sherlock’s messy dark curls. He waited for Sherlock to focus on him again before arching against him, smirking knowingly, and dropping his legs further apart to accommodate Sherlock’s narrow hips. He reached down and groped Sherlock’s arse firmly, hands kneading the globes of flesh, before pulling Sherlock down until they were flush together. “Now, love, fuck me.”

  
The ice blue rings of Sherlock’s irises were barely visible as he nodded slowly. He propped himself up on one elbow and took his cock in hand with the other to guide it towards John’s entrance once more. The ring of muscle resisted at first, but at Sherlock’s steady insistence upon entry, John relaxed and the tip of Sherlock’s cock slipped inside. Sherlock inhaled sharply, stopping for a moment. John’s fingers, now latched onto Sherlock’s shoulders, tightened considerably on his skin as he curled in on himself, moaning ardently as he pulled himself closer to Sherlock. His nails were most certainly leaving indentations, but Sherlock couldn’t be bothered to care as he pushed deeper, the sound of John’s breathless groans urging him on.

  
“God, Sherlock. Don’t stop. Keep going.”

  
Sherlock pushed in a little more, biting the inside of his cheek to refrain from driving into John with no regard for his lover. He pressed his eyes shut with the effort of ignoring every instinct he had, and drew back from John a bit before pushing in again.

  
John was panting. His body, flushed from exertion, clamped down around Sherlock as he lifted his hips to slide him in the rest of the way. “Yeah, that’s it.” Sherlock angled upward and John jolted, lips parted in bliss as the cock inside him brushed against his prostate. “Yes, love. _God_ , Sherlock! Just like that!”

  
Sherlock grunted in assent and set a languid pace, trying to keep the angle that made John squirm and breath heavily in his ear.

  
John’s arms were locked securely around Sherlock’s neck as Sherlock slid in and out of him. His body moving in time with Sherlock’s thrusts.

  
It wasn’t long before John lost his grip on Sherlock and fell back to the mattress, hands grasping at the sheets below him. His currently untouched cock throbbed painfully, pre-cum leaking from its tip. Sherlock chose that moment to quicken his pace, and John felt him swell within him. He lifted a hand and began vigorously stroking his own cock in time with Sherlock’s thrusts.

  
“Sherlock,” he gasped, knowing he was close. “Sherlock, look at me. Look at me, love.”

  
Sherlock’s eyes locked on John’s, his mouth open in a tiny ‘o’ of pleasure, his arms shaking from keeping himself held above John, his brow furrowed in concentration as he struggled to keep eye contact. John’s heart jerked in his chest, throwing his breathing off its fast rhythm. “Sherlock.” His back arched as he came, white lines painting his chest as his orgasm burned its way through him, whiting out the image of Sherlock above him. His body clasped around Sherlock as his muscles fluttered in the aftermath.

  
Sherlock’s hips stuttered, and John heard the soft cry of his name before there was a rush of warmth as Sherlock came undone inside him.

  
Collapsing in a heap of limbs, both men breathed heavily as they came down from their high. It was long minutes before Sherlock did more than twitch as his muscles calmed and his body and mind reoriented themselves. Eventually, he felt John’s hand come up to sweep through his hair as he tried to turn them onto their sides. Sherlock obliged, but the movement caused him to slip out of John, making them sigh in tandem for the loss of Sherlock inside his lover. Sherlock couldn’t help but imagine what John’s rim looked like now, wet and gaping as the muscle clenched from the loss of his cock. His own fading erection gave a tired jolt at the thought.

  
John shifted around, moving Sherlock’s limbs as he wished, until Sherlock’s head was resting over his shoulder scar and his arm was still wrapped around him. Sherlock latched onto John’s other arm, nuzzling into the spot John had made for him. The petting of his hair had turned to light scratching as John nodded off, face pressed into the pillow.

  
“Love you,” he mumbled.

  
Sherlock felt the press of John’s lips in his hair, before the pillow shifted again and the room fell silent, save for the soft rise and fall of their chests as they breathed in time.

  
Running his fingers over the small bit of skin he could reach, Sherlock pressed his lips to John’s shoulder before settling in, eyes closing as John’s breathing lolled him to sleep.

  
Sherlock didn’t believe in God, but oh, he could worship John Watson for an eternity.

**Author's Note:**

> So how'd it go? Seriously, I would love to know anyone's thoughts! This is the second time I've written smut, and only the first time I've written it explicitly in massive detail. I had a ton of fun writing this one, so I hope it turned out well! 
> 
> Oh! And there's a fanart (found here: http://havetardiswilltimetravel.tumblr.com/post/56528224848/johns-breathing-permeated-the-quiet-night-each) that kind of inspired the cuddling from the end! It's a photo-manipulation from havetardiswilltimetravel over on Tumblr. She has some really amazing manips on her page! 
> 
> Here's something hilarious, now that we're at the end: While I was writing, I got to the "fuck me" part, and ended up typing "fuck you." I threw myself into a fifteen minute laughing fit. My cat did not appreciate my uncontrollable screeching, and it totally killed the mood. Whoops. :P
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Comments and/or kudos are always well loved!
> 
> ~Aura


End file.
